Buffy's Night Off
by hulettwyo
Summary: Buffy takes a night off. Hijinks ensue. This started out cruising down Humor Lane then took a sharp right onto Angst Avenue. Part of me thinks it ends up being a bit AU, while another part thinks this could have happened in canon. I'll let you decide.


Takes place during the sexcapades of Season Six.

No real warnings to speak of, maybe some mature language or themes, but nothing you couldn't see on prime-time television.

This started out cruising down Humor Lane then took a sharp right onto Angst Avenue.

Part of me thinks it ends up being a bit AU, while another part thinks this could have happened in canon.

I'll let you decide.

Buffy's Night Off

I thought I was smart. Oh, not as smart as Willow or Giles… or even Spike – I've caught him reading classic literature a few times when I've gone to his crypt, so I know he's got a big brain under that bleached hair – but I'm not a drooling moron or anything.

I got a good score on the SATs. I went to college. I hold down a job. I save the world nearly every year. I take care of my sister and my friends. I have to be smart to handle all that, don't I? You'd think so, wouldn't you? Well… you'd be wrong.

Here's what happened….

XXXX

I had a night off. Finally. I wasn't scheduled to work at the Doublemeat, Willow and Tara were going away for the weekend to try to work out their problems, Dawn was spending the weekend with a friend – she really was… I checked – and Xander and Anya were buried in wedding preparations that thankfully didn't involve me. This year's apocalypse was still a few months off, Giles didn't know of any rising demons or chaos mages causing trouble, and Spike and I had been keeping the vamps thinned out, so there was no Hellmouthy stuff to deal with. I was all alone with nothing to do.

I decided to pamper myself a little. I stripped out of my clothes in my bedroom and slipped on my fluffy robe then headed into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink as I tried to decide what to do first. I knew I wanted to end the pampering session with a long, hot soak in the tub, so any maintenance work would have to be done first.

I bent and opened the cabinet under the sink, looking over the jumble of beauty care products piled into a bright purple basket. I hadn't really planned for this, so I would have to make do with what I could find. I pulled out a new razor and Willow's can of shaving gel and set them on the edge of the sink then shuffled through the rest of the mess, looking for that bottle of lotion I'd bought a few weeks ago. A box caught my attention and I lifted it out of the basket. It was one of those 'cold wax' kits. Must be Dawn's.

Hmmm. Waxing would leave my legs softer than shaving and lotion… and maybe I could use it to… I really hate shaving down there… but Spike likes me smooth when he's…I shivered a little as I shook my head. I'm doing all this for me… not him. What he likes doesn't matter… even though he usually spends a lot more time down there when I'm…

I stood up, clutching the box, even as I told myself very sternly that I wasn't about to wax my hoo-ha because Spike likes it that way. I'm waxing it because it's easier than shaving and will last longer, so I won't have to do this for a while. I'm being practical, really. Completely time-conscious. Giles would be proud. And thinking about Giles and my hoo-ha at the same time is just sick and wrong.

I shuddered that thought right out of my head then opened the box and laid out the contents on the edge of the tub. I looked at them for a few minutes then sighed. Who am I kidding? I'm doing this for Spike. I know it and he'll know it. And hopefully he'll 'appreciate' it. For a few hours. That whole 'doesn't have to breathe' thing is really… nice.

This time my shudder was more of a shiver of anticipation as I dug out the instruction sheet and unfolded it. It was in French. A class I had failed miserably. I flipped the sheet over. Oh! English. Ok, here we go. I read the instructions then laid the sheet on the floor by the tub and looked over the several strips of wax waiting for me. Nothing to it. Each strip is actually two separate strips of wax that are stuck facing each other. You just rub the strips together in your hand to warm the wax, peel them apart and press them to wherever you want no more hair, and then pull them off. Easy.

I picked up the first strip and started rubbing it between my palms. I rubbed for a few minutes then touched the strip to my leg to see if it was getting any warmer. It didn't really seem like it. Maybe the kit was too old? I rubbed a little harder, putting some Slayer strength behind it, then tested again. Still not very warm. Well… crap.

I glanced at the instruction sheet again to see if I was doing something wrong. Nope. I was warming the wax just like it showed in illustration C, but it wasn't actually getting warm enough to do what it promised, so… how to make it warm? I looked around the bathroom and my eyes fell on Dawn's industrial strength blow dryer. The one appliance in the house that was probably responsible for ninety percent of global warming all by itself. Should work.

I held the strip pinched between my finger and thumb and let it dangle while I plugged in the dryer and turned it on high. Yeah, I could have used the low setting, but my pampering time was running out and I wanted to get to the soaking in the tub part of the evening, so the high setting it was. Get that wax warmed up quick.

Once the wax was warmed, I set the dryer on the edge of the sink, pulled the strips apart and applied them to my right thigh. I patted them down, making sure the melty wax was securely surrounding the hairs – and yeah, the wax was a little too warm, but hey… warmer wax works better, right? And I have that Slayer healing thing going for me, so a few minor burns wouldn't slow me down for long.

I waited for a few minutes, until the wax had cooled, then held the skin tight around the first strip and pulled. Freaking OW! I breathed hard for a few seconds until the pain had faded then looked at my leg. It worked! I ran my fingertips over my now smooth and hairless skin. I could do this! Okay, now for the next strip. I braced myself and pulled. OW! AGAIN! Whew… kinda really hurts, but I had another strip of smooth hairless skin. And if it works that great on my leg, then it should work just as well… down there. Right? Right. I'm really gonna do this.

I held up another pair of strips and warmed them with the dryer then propped one foot up on the toilet, moving my robe out of the way. I pulled the strips apart and applied the first one across the right side of my bikini line. It was a really long strip and covered the right half of my hoo-ha, stretching all the way down to the inside of my butt cheek. So far, so good. I patted the strip several times to make sure the wax had grabbed all the hairs. I applied the second strip to the left side and patted it down. Wow. Not really used to that area of my body being quite this warm, but it's for a good cause, right? Right. So I'll deal.

I stood there for several minutes, my foot still propped up on the toilet, waiting for the wax to cool down. While I waited, I imagined how Spike would react to my efforts. He'd smile that sultry little smile of his then look at me through his lashes and ask in his silky smooth bedroom voice, "You do this for me, pet? I'm touched." And then he'd touch, first with his fingertips, sliding them across the smooth skin. Then he'd kiss lightly and nuzzle at me before he started to lick and…

I shivered hard and blinked. Maybe the soaking in the tub thing can wait. I'm sure Spike isn't doing anything tonight, so once I finish this then maybe… I looked down and patted at the strips. They were cool now. Okay, here we go. One smooth and hair-free hoo-ha coming right up.

I reached between my legs, grabbing the ends of the strips nearest my butt – the instruction sheet said to pull against the direction of hair growth – then braced myself, inhaled deeply and… RRRRIIIPPP!

OH MY GOD! THE PAIN! I'm blind! My arms flew out, flailing around until one banged the counter. I grabbed hold, trying to anchor myself in the wildly spinning bathroom. I'm dying! Actually, dying didn't hurt THIS much.

I blinked until my vision started to return then slowly looked down, thinking that if it worked then the pain just might be worth it. And that Spike better freaking appreciate what I'm doing for him… and he'd better 'appreciate' it for at least four or five hours.

You have got to be freaking kidding me! All that pain for only half of each freaking strip!? Why does my life suck so much? I let go of the counter, only bobbling on my balancing foot a little bit, then grabbed the dangling ends of the strips. I took several deep breaths then braced myself and… RRRRIIIPPP!

The neighbors down the block probably heard the scream. My vision is nothing but black spots and occasional bursts of color. I think I'm about to pass out. I bend forward, resting my chest on my thigh then breathe in and out, trying to put that meditation stuff Giles taught me to use. Finally the world resolves itself into my bathroom again, although there are a few more spots of black on the walls than I remember.

I slowly straighten up then look at the items in my hands – which are supposed to be strips of hairy wax – my trophy for all the pain I've just been through – and… there's no hair on them. Where is the hair? WHERE IS THE WAX?

I slowly look down as the empty strips fall from my fingers and brush across the foot I still have propped on the toilet. There it is. The hair. Right where it was BEFORE the greatest pain I've ever experienced. I touch it. Wax. I'm touching wax. What should be smooth and hair-free skin is nothing but cold wax and matted hair.

I clench my fists and stomp my previously toilet-propped foot down onto the tile floor. Stupid wax! This was a stupid idea! My stomach does a twisty little somersault as a new problem makes itself known. My butt is sealed shut. Completely.

I scream again, but this time it's pure frustration instead of pain. My butt is sealed shut! What if I have to poop? My head will pop right off! Why do these things always happen to me? What have I done to deserve this?

I have to get the wax off. Like right now. So what melts wax? I consider the blow dryer for a few seconds. No. I do NOT want to bake my hoo-ha on top of everything else and I can't spread my legs anyway what with the whole BUTT GLUED SHUT thing going on. Hot water! Hot water will melt wax, right? If I run the hottest water I can stand in the tub then soak the waxy parts, I should be able to wipe off the melted wax, right?

I penguin walk over to the tub and start the water, tapping one foot impatiently as the tub fills. Once the tub is half full, more than high enough to cover the affected parts, I slip out of my bathrobe then awkwardly climb into the tub and sit down in water that is slightly hotter than that used to sterilize surgical equipment… or torture prisoners of war. Melted wax coming right up!

NOT!

Hey, guess what? Hot water DOESN'T melt cold wax. Hey, guess what else? Cold, not melted by hot water wax DOES stick to the bottom of a bathtub.

So now, not only have I glued my nether regions together, I've glued them to the freaking bathtub! I'm sitting in scalding hot water with my lady parts cemented to the bottom of the tub!

I tried to lift myself out of the tub by bracing my hands on the sides and pouring on the Slayer strength. And now I need a new tub. At least I didn't buckle the side far enough down to let the water pour out onto the floor. Much.

I bang my fists on the sides of the tub – Oh shut up. What's a few more dents? The thing's ruined anyway. – and try to figure out how I'm going to get out of this. I'm just about to start crying in frustration when one more bucket of suck gets dumped into my swimming pool of suck. Somebody's knocking on the front door.

None of my friends knock on the door… hell, most of my friends live here… and the one who doesn't (Xander) never knocks. Giles would have called, Anya doesn't really come over without Xander, and Spike…

The door opened and guess whose voice I heard? Yeah. The Bleached Menace. Oh, this is just perfect. How much worse can this night get? I hurriedly pushed that thought out of my mind. I live on a Hellmouth… things can ALWAYS get worse, and saying or even thinking that just tempts the Powers to see if they can make it happen.

And apparently they'd taken up the gauntlet I'd just carelessly thrown down because instead of Spike seeing that I wasn't downstairs and deciding to leave, he started clomping up the stairs in those heavy boots of his as he yelled my name.

I dropped my head back and thumped it against the wall just as the clomping came to a halt outside the bathroom door. He must have heard the thump because he asked, "Buffy? You all right in there?"

"What are you doing here, Spike? It's my night off. Go away."

I could hear him scuffing his feet on the hallway carpet. A sure sign he was embarrassed… or lying. "Oh… uh… I didn't mean to bother you, but… I… uh… heard about a vamp nest, a big one, down near the old warehouse. You know, the one from when Angelus was about? Uh… I could probably handle it on my own, but I figured you'd want to tag along. Didn't want you gettin' brassed off that I dusted 'em all by myself."

I sighed and banged my head against the wall again. "You're such a liar, Spike. There's no vamp nest. We just patrolled that area two days ago. Why are you really here?"

I heard him sigh on the other side of the door and I could picture the shy shrug as he said, "Just wanted to see you, is all."

I looked down at myself. If he came in here now, he was definitely going to 'see' me, but it was nothing he hadn't already seen, so… maybe he could help? I'd done this for him, after all, so…

I sat up and tried to pump up my pride a little. So what if this situation was completely embarrassing? So what if Spike would tease me about it until the end of days? He'd probably tell the whole demon community that the Slayer's arch nemesis is cold wax. I could see him leaning on the bar at Willy's and giving pointers to the other demons. "Want to bag a Slayer, do you? Only one way to do it. Wax. That's all I'm gonna say. Have fun, mates!"

I shook my head then banged it on the wall again. No. Spike wouldn't do that to me. He might make fun of me a little, but he'd never tell anyone else what had happened here tonight.

I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn't hear him sigh sadly and mutter, "Never mind, Slayer. Guess I'll see you around."

Panic shot through me. If he left, I'd be alone until Sunday night. I couldn't spend the next two days glued to my bathtub. "Spike! No! Don't leave!"

I swear I heard him quirk that damn eyebrow. "Slayer?"

"Look, if I let you come in here, you have to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"That you won't laugh."

"Are you naked in there, pet?"

"Duh."

"Then what makes you think I'd laugh? Might do a dozen other things, but laughin' will most certainly not be one of 'em."

"It's not me being naked that you'll laugh at, Spike. It's… oh, God… Just swear you won't laugh, dammit!"

He chuckled and I could almost see him holding up his hand like he was swearing on a Bible. "I swear, Slayer, I won't laugh at whatever you think I would laugh at."

"Fine, but if you do…"

He opened the door and stepped in as he chuckled… again. "I know, I know. It'll be yet another broken nose for old Spike, yeah?" He stopped just inside the door, his hand still resting on the knob as he looked over the bathroom, taking in the partially collapsed side of the tub, the unused wax strips that were now floating in a puddle on the floor next to the island of instruction sheet, and the naked, frustrated Slayer sitting in waist deep water glaring at him. He took one more step then carefully closed the door behind him as he asked in a calm, quiet voice – the kind of voice meant to soothe rabid animals or crazy people, "Uh… did the tub do something to offend you, pet?"

I huffed and crossed my arms over my naked chest. "Yeah. It kept asking me stupid questions." Spike flinched slightly at my sharp tone and looked down at the wet floor. I sighed and dropped my arms, motioning with one hand to the wax box on the back of the toilet. "I tried to wax… um… down there… and it didn't work and now the wax is all stuck to me… my butt is glued shut, Spike… glued shut! And I thought hot water would melt it… and… now I'm… stuck to the tub."

He lifted his eyes a little, not looking at me, and nodded. "So… you've glued your quim to the tub?"

I barked, "Didn't I just say that?" He lifted his head fully and looked me over, his eyes lingering on the area of my body in question. I rolled my eyes and nearly growled, "Shut up, Spike."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Maybe not with your mouth, but your eyebrow is saying all kinds of things."

He smiled and slipped out of his duster, hanging it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. "It's got a mind of its own, pet." He stepped closer to the tub then bent down and hooked the soggy instruction sheet out of the puddle and held it up. He started reading the instructions out loud – the ones in French, the show-off – then balled up the sheet and tossed it into the trash. "Nothin' to it, Slayer. Just need to use the lotion and the wax will wipe right off."

The lotion! Why didn't I think of that? I started frantically looking around for the itty bitty pink tube that I had set on the edge of the tub next to the wax strips. My stomach sank. It was at the bottom of one of the divots I'd made with my fist. And was it whole and perfect? Hell no. It was a smashed pink blotch that looked like a bug on a windshield. If the water hadn't run out over the edge, I'd have had a divot full of pink goo, but because I'm me – the unluckiest woman on the planet – most of it had washed down the side of the tub and I was left with a gutted plastic tube floating serenely in its own tiny pink pond.

I angrily flicked the empty tube out of the divot pond with my finger. "No lotion. Next?"

Spike looked at the tube that was now floating serenely next to one of the wax strips then he raised a hand to the back of his neck. "Uh… have you tried scraping it off?"

I pointed to where my hoo-ha was securely fastened to the tub. "Did I not mention… GLUED TO THE TUB!? How can I scrape off something I can't get to? And what am I supposed to scrape it off with?" I waved my arm around the room, trying not to get angry… well, angrier… when Spike's eyes focused on my bouncing breasts. "Does this look like the Home Depot? Do you see any scrapers or putty knives or anything sitting around?"

He backed up a step and reached for his duster. "I could go get another kit… um… don't have any dosh, so I'll have to nick it, but it'll have the lotion…"

"No! Don't leave me here like this!"

He froze with his hand hovering over the leather coat. "I won't be long, Slayer, and I promise I'll come back." He lifted the duster off the hook and slipped into it, backing up another step. He easily dodged the puffy bath sponge thingy I threw at him and opened the door. "You just uh… sit tight." The bath brush I threw got stuck in the drywall on the far side of the hallway outside the bathroom door and I could hear Spike laughing all the way down the stairs.

So I sat. And then I sat some more. Then I figured that since the hot water wasn't doing anything, I might as well drain it and maybe try the scraping the wax off thing Spike had suggested. It's a good thing I'm so flexible because I was able to bend forward enough to reach the plug and drain the tub. And no, my hoo-ha did not budge even the tiniest bit as I bent myself nearly in half. Dammit. I sat back up and opened my legs as far as they would go, which wasn't very far. Yeah, I could've kept spreading them if I'd gotten tired of actually having skin down there, which I hadn't. So, spreading my legs was out. I tried lifting them instead, bending my knees until I could wrap my arms around my legs. I leaned over as far as I could and craned my neck, trying to see the problem area.

Wax. Gluing me to the tub. Great. No new information there. I lowered my legs and leaned against the back of the tub. Where the hell was Spike? The grocery store wasn't that far away. Maybe he'd gotten caught stealing. Maybe he was cuffed right now and in the back of a squad car on his way to the police station. He'd have to go quietly since he couldn't fight humans. Shit. Of course he got caught, the idiot. Because my life just sucks that much. And now I was stuck here – literally stuck – until Sunday night. Wonder who will find me first? Dawn will probably have a stroke from laughing so hard. Willow will try not to laugh then fail miserably, and Tara will have that motherly knowing look she gets whenever one of us does something silly. Maybe she could magic the wax off me. And, oh God… what if Xander comes over for some reason? I stretched as far as I could and hooked a towel off the rack then draped it around my shoulders and pulled it close around me. Anya will probably share some extremely inappropriate story about the uses of wax during sex while Xander stands there staring at me with his mouth hanging open. Perfect. At least I know Giles won't be the one to find me. He's way too British to come into the house uninvited, so there's that, anyway.

I sat some more, starting to shiver a little from the cold even with the towel wrapped around me. I was just about to lean forward again and run some more hot water into the tub when my stomach growled. Crap. I'd forgotten to eat again today and now I was starving. I looked around the bathroom – well, I looked at the stuff I could reach in the bathroom – and wondered if bath sponges had any nutritional value.

I was pondering the caloric content of toilet paper when I heard the front door slam shut and Spike's voice call out, "Got the kit, Slayer! Got two of 'em, actually."

Finally! I listened to him clomp up the stairs again and pause outside the bathroom door, probably trying to stifle some giggles or something. Jerk. The door opened and Spike stepped through, his face a carefully blank mask. He was holding two wax kits in one hand, identical to the one I'd found under the sink.

He set the kits on the counter and slipped out of his duster then picked up one box. "Just let me get the lotion out, luv, and we'll get you free."

The pink tube looked very small and delicate in Spike's hand as he carried it toward me. "Are you sure that'll be enough, Spike? It doesn't look like very much."

Spike stopped then turned back to the counter and opened the other box. "I'll use 'em both, if you like." He stepped back over to the tub and looked down at me, managing to look shy even as he leered. "Okay, pet, spread 'em far as you can."

I glared up at him then opened my legs as far as they would go. "That's it, Spike. That's all I can do."

He nodded and knelt down next to the tub, grimacing as his jeans soaked up the cold water. "I'll manage. Just have to worm my hand in there, I guess."

And then he did, and it felt… weird. It wasn't like he'd never touched me there before, with his hands, and… other things, but the way he was doing it was… purposeful. Business-like. And I suddenly felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. He could have done a lot of things in this situation – disgusting and perverted things – but he was doing everything he could to make it easier for me.

He slathered me with the lotion, grunting as he pushed his fingers through the cold wax. When both tubes were empty, he sat back on his heels and said, "Okay. Try to lift up."

I braced my hands on the bottom of the tub next to my butt and pushed. Nothing. What the hell was in that wax? Super Glue? I pushed a little harder, my arms starting to tremble from the strain. It felt like the wax gave a little… a very little… but it was probably my imagination. I slumped down with a tired sigh. "Nope."

Spike reached for his back pocket and held out a metal spatula. "Nicked this, too. Thought it might help."

I eyed it warily then shrugged and leaned my head on the wall. "Oh… what the hell… I'm so numb down there I could probably cut my own leg off at this point, so do your worst."

"I'll be careful. Promise." He leaned over and aimed the spatula at my Southern region with all the care and concentration of a brain surgeon.

A few shoves and a few wiggles and a disgusting sucking sound later and I was free. Of the tub, anyway. I pushed to my feet and stood, dripping and cold in my ruined tub. I spread my legs – the lotion had disintegrated the wax enough for me to do that, thank God – and looked down. Cold wax, matted hair, and pink globs and swirls of lotion. Beautiful. I motioned toward the towel rack. "Could you hand me a washcloth?"

Spike nodded and stood up. I gave him a pass on the whole staring at my hoo-ha thing. Not like he could really help it, considering it had been right at his eye level. He ran warm water over the cloth then squeezed it out and handed it to me. I'll say this for the lotion… it works… eventually. The wax wiped right off. Didn't do jack for the hair, though. Basically, I'd spent the last hour and a half torturing myself for nothing. I was just as hairy as I'd been when I started this little adventure. I tossed the washcloth into the puddle on the bathroom floor and stepped out of the tub.

Spike watched as I bent and snagged the razor that was floating in the puddle. I considered the shave gel then shook my head. Nope. Not putting anything else on my girlie goodies tonight. I propped my foot on the toilet again and bent over. I am going to be hairless down there before the night is over even if it kills me. Again. I recklessly shaved off the hair, only nicking myself three times. It didn't even hurt, which, considering the abuse that region has taken tonight, didn't surprise me at all.

There. I'm done. I'm freaking smooth – except for a few razor bumps – and hair-free. Finally. Spike quietly cleared his throat and I jumped. I'd forgotten he was there. I turned to face him then nodded at the door. "Thanks for the help, but you can go if you want. I'm just gonna go to bed and try to forget this night even happened."

He glanced down at the razor I still held in my hand. "Do you… um… are you in much pain?"

I looked down at myself then back up at the vampire in my bathroom. "Yeah, a little, I guess, but it's mostly just numb. Why?"

"I could… uh… I could help with that, too."

I stared at him. Was he serious? "You still expect me to have sex with you? After all this?"

He immediately shook his head. "No, not shaggin', pet, just…" He licked his lips. "I could… soothe the affected area. Make you feel better."

I thought about that for a minute then shrugged. What the hell. I'd done all this for him anyway, so if he wanted to… soothe… that area, who was I to say no? "Sure, I guess."

He beamed a smile at me and my heart melted just a little. It was so easy to make him happy. He nodded toward my bedroom. "You'll be more comfortable if you lie down."

I did, and then Spike spent the next few hours kneeling on the floor by my bed with his face buried between my legs. I lost count of how many times he **soothed** me, but he was still going strong when I finally begged him to stop. He'd reduced me to a quivering puddle of Buffy who had absolutely no muscle control whatsoever. I couldn't even feel my legs and I suspected I might never walk again, but I was surprisingly okay with that.

Spike sat back on his feet, licking his lips as he lowered my feet gently to the floor. "Guess I'll be going then. See you for patrol tomorrow?" He braced his hands on the end of the bed and pushed himself to his feet, grimacing as he did. He reached down and tried to discreetly adjust himself in the tight jeans that had a large wet spot on the front. He followed my gaze then smiled sheepishly. "It gets me off when I get you off, and yeah, it makes a bit of an uncomfortable mess." He started for the door. "No worries, though, I'll clean up at the crypt. See you later, Slayer."

"Spike, wait."

He turned back and smiled again, somewhat proudly this time. "Right. Don't imagine you can move much under your own power just now, so I'll get you tucked up." He tugged the blankets down on one side of the bed then lifted me and laid me gently on the cool sheet. He pulled the blankets over me with a muttered, "Night, Buffy," then turned and started for the door again.

"Spike."

He stopped, but didn't turn to face me. "You need somethin' else?"

I swallowed hard. What I was about to suggest was something Spike had been wanting from me since we'd started this… whatever it was. While he didn't seem to mind the rough sex or the hours I spent using him for my pleasure, what he wanted most of all was some tenderness. To be close. Apparently my entire body being mostly numb made my brain work better because I'd suddenly realized that I wanted it, too. I wanted to be held, and I wanted Spike to be the one doing the holding.

I swallowed again. Spike was just standing there, waiting for me to ask something else of him before I kicked him out, forgetting about him until the next time I needed to scratch an itch. I took a breath and said quietly, "Yeah. I need you to clean up then come back to bed. I don't want you to leave."

He went unnaturally still for a few long seconds, not even breathing, then he turned and looked hard at me. "Could you say that again? Not sure I heard you correctly."

I nodded toward his jeans. "Clean up. Come to bed. I want…" I closed my eyes. I could do this, dammit. I could open up to him. Show him my heart. "I want you to hold me… if you want to, that is."

I heard him walk into the bathroom and the buckle of his belt clinked against the tile floor just after the thuds of his boots. Water ran in the sink then the lid of the clothes hamper opened and closed. I felt him enter my bedroom and my heart sped up a little as I opened my eyes. He was standing beside the bed, looking uncertain. He was naked and had one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "Not too late to show me the door, Slayer. Won't hold it against you if you've changed your mind."

I flipped the blankets down then slid over just a little and patted the space next to me. "I haven't."

He sat then hesitantly stretched out next to me and tugged the blankets back up, covering us both. I scooted toward him and laid my head on his chest, draping my arm across his stomach. His arm wrapped around my back and held me tightly to his side. He murmured quietly, "Just give a bloke some warnin' 'fore you shove me out of your bed, all right?"

"Not gonna shove you out, Spike. Now be quiet and go to sleep."

I felt him press a tentative kiss to the top of my head then he lay still. It took a while, but he finally fell asleep, his arm never relaxing its hold on me.

As I lay there, listening to Spike's steady, even breathing, I thought about my night off. Some parts had been painful, embarrassing, and not at all fun, but most of it had been pretty okay. Hmmm… maybe next week I'll try hair color. How bad could that turn out?


End file.
